Even if it's me, do I dare to resist Your Majesty?
Perhaps, if she wants to, I would give everything, everything I have, including my flesh and soul, to resist anyone.
He hates her, but as long as she says a word, he would burn everything he has without hesitation; he would burn everything for her without hesitation, yet he hates her from the bottom of his heart.
But in the end, she never spoke up.
Was it just for this?
Just for love that cannot be obtained?
How shallow, how vulgar, the platitudes even Marvey wouldn't want to write.
No, that's not right, this is also an illusion, a facade to cover up the bloody truth, not deep enough, not cruel enough. It must cut through the skin like a butcher's knife, slice through the flesh, smash the bones, until the soul.
At this moment, the root of all Siegfried's pain isn't love unattained; that's just his own deception.
The one he truly hates, the one he hates to the core, wishes to devour and skin alive, isn't Elizabeth Li Yang.
